A Unique Art Form
by MissKitsune08
Summary: During one of his early reconnaissance missions to the galaxy, Mitth'raw'nuruodo is given an opportunity to study a whole other kind of art in process. A stand-alone fic set in Canon. Thrawn. Anakin Skywalker. Gen.


**Title: A Unique Art Form**

Authors: MissKitsune08 and Ma_Kir (darth_treyvah from TheForce Net)

Summary: During one of his early reconnaissance missions to the galaxy, Mitth'raw'nuruodo is given an opportunity to study a whole other kind of art in process. A stand-alone fic set in Canon. Gen.

Authors' Note: This story is set in Canon. At this point, we do not know whether the events in _Outbound Flight_ happened, however, ultimately it makes little difference for the purpose of this ficlet. Unless Thrawn lied about meeting Anakin Skywalker during one of his Clone Wars-era reconnaissance missions, we believe an observational study like this might have happened.

* * *

For the past hour, Mitth'raw'nuruodo had been sitting down cross-legged, with his palms resting on his knees, silently observing the Jedi General in the process of a practice session with a highly sophisticated machine specifically programmed for such a purpose.

Anakin Skywalker was a true warrior, there was a little doubt about that. The human moved with swift, fluid movements, much faster than the rest of his species, deflecting the blaster bolts with such precision that it made Mitth'raw'nuruodo briefly wonder whether the whole session had not been choreographed in advance to impress an audience.

Impossible. Unless the human being possessed an eidetic memory, he would not be able to memorize such complicated pattern.

Form Five, they had called it. The Way of the Krayt Dragon.

Later, Mitth'raw'nuruodo will have to look closely into the mysterious beast from which the combat technique had been named. An offensive style characterized by power attacks and defense immediately followed by a counter-strike. According to the Jedi General, it was also the most physically demanding form of the lightsaber combat.

Finally, the practice session ended.

Anakin Skywalker turned off the energy blade and sagged down to the cold floor, panting heavily from the exhaustion. Mitth'raw'nuruodo noted with interest that the human being leaked salty bodily fluids when muscles heat up due to exertion, an interesting means of thermoregulation.

"So?" Anakin Skywalker asked in heavily accented Sy Bisti, suggesting he must have originated somewhere from the Outer Rim or beyond, and from the tone of his voice it seemed that the human felt pleased with himself. Mitth'raw'nuruodo did not know whether the demonstration was considered mediocre or exceptional by the Jedi standards, however, to his Chiss eyes it seemed extraordinary.

In fact, Mitth'raw'nuruodo had never thought any being capable of such movement coordination. The Jedi General could prove to be a great asset to the Chiss Ascendancy.

"Impressive." Mitth'raw'nuruodo admitted without embarrassment, giving the human warrior a curt nod in acknowledgment. Anakin Skywalker's skills at physical combat greatly out-weighted his own. "You are a difficult kill."

The Jedi General laughed. The human expressed his emotions so openly, allowing himself to be read by the opponent; a weakness that could easily be used against him in case the situation ever arose.

"You meant that as a compliment."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo slowly inclined his head. "Among the Chiss warriors, it is a high praise indeed. May I see your weapon?"

The human frowned, a clear sign that he was not comfortable with the prospect of another being touching the energy blade. It was more than a simple tool for him, he felt a personal connection to the weapon.

"Suit yourself." Anakin Skywalker said aloud however, and to Mitth'raw'nuruodo's utmost surprise he tossed the weapon across the room in his general direction.

No. He did not toss it. He sent it. The cylinder flew through the air, there was no better description of what Mitth'raw'nuruodo's eyes had seen. Telekinesis.

And it wasn't a trick, either. These Jedi had access to an energy field that penetrated all living things and surrounded all objects in the universe, or so they said. They could bend other living beings to their will, and they could levitate objects with the power of sheer will.

It was a rather terrifying thought.

The lightsaber reached its destination; Mitth'raw'nuruodo cautiously took the cylinder into his hands and inspected the handle, careful not to ignite the energy blade. No wonder the Jedi General felt a personal connection to the weapon, Thrawn thought inwardly. Taking into an account the warrior's personality and the behavior he exhibited thus far, it was apparent he must have constructed the weapon himself. A true work of art, and like all artworks, it provided an interesting excursion into its creator's mind.

It was specifically designed to facilitate Anakin Skywalker's preferred style of combat, with the ridged hand grip allowing the user to maintain a solid grasp on the hilt, ideal for both offensive and defensive approach.

Naturally, whenever he could, Anakin Skywalker preferred a full-blown offensive. The artificial hand, which would be a serious handicap for anyone else, provided the Jedi General with an additional strength, becoming an advantage in holding the blade rather than an impairment. The construction of the handle reflected the specific needs of its wielder.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo let his fingers run along the cylinder, enjoying the feeling of the cold steel in his hands. Anakin Skywalker strived for perfection, that much was obvious, spending a considerable time considering the density and make of the alloy used before he chose the steel manufacturer. He wanted his weapon to be the most the most durable, the most formidable in the galaxy. He wanted himself to become the most powerful, the strongest Jedi who ever lived.

Why? What were the human's motivations? They were personal. Just like the belt ring modification which allowed for easy detachment. He was compensating for his past failures, learning from his mistakes so he would not never be forced to lead the same lifestyle again.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo looked closer, inspecting the emitter's design. It spoke of raw, untamed power bound into a case of metal. It told him of Anakin Skywalker's inner conflict; he felt himself superior to the other Jedi because of his deep connection with the mysterious energy field, yet he was constantly reminded by the elders that he lacked experience and discipline. It frustrated him. It suffocated him. He wanted to be freed of the shackles of the Jedi Order, which is why he chose such an artistic take on the emitter.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo remembered the words the Jedi General started the practice session:

 _There is no emotion, there is peace._

 _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

 _There is no passion, there is serenity._

 _There is no chaos, there is harmony._

 _There is no death, there is the Force._

The way Anakin Skywalker recited the words told Mitth'raw'nuruodo that he had been made to memorize them like a mantra. An ancient truth, an unquestionable doctrine.

However, like all unquestionable doctrines, it made a little sense. Anakin Skywalker was a creature of passion, a being who drew his strength from the emotion, whose feelings empowered him. Forcing him to abandon his emotions would bring only suffering to the Jedi General. No, he should acknowledge his emotions instead and use them to his advantage, just like he modified the handle which provided him with a firm grip of the weapon.

The Jedi Code did not fit with this being; deep down, Anakin Skywalker desired all the things which were shunned by the Order. And he desired connection. He craved attachments. Physical attachments. Emotional attachments. He wanted to be freed from the slavery of dogma. And more than anything, he desired to break his chains: a force of natural entropy contained only by a thin veneer of stasis and artifice. If he continued, leading sort of a double life, Anakin Skywalker was destined to fail, like the inevitable phenomenon of a dying star burning and imploding itself into a blackhole.

It was akin to watching the third or fourth act of a five-act opera favoured by some other cultures. And while the tactical and pragmatic part of Mitth'raw'nuruodo's found this waste of talent and potential utterly distasteful, the part that appreciated history and art, myth and legend, couldn't help but marvel at the art of the contradiction: of the futility and the walking unselfconscious tragedy that was Anakin Skywalker.

As Mitth'raw'nuruodo ran his hands over the ignition switch, he felt a horrible sense of premonition. If the warrior of Anakin Skywalker's qualities allowed his emotions to rule him rather than acknowledging them, he could become a fearsome opponent indeed. He could probably decimate whole armies if he let run his emotions rampant on the battlefield. A foe which had to be stopped.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo frowned. The Force was dangerous, even more dangerous than he had suspected. He would have to keep an eye on these Force wielders, these Jedi. He would have watch them very closely, indeed.

Only the time would tell whether they could be of use to the Chiss Ascendancy or whether they were too dangerous to let loose in the galaxy.

"Thank you, General Skywalker. It was most informative."

 **THE END**


End file.
